Guilt and Shame
by xthinkxhappyxthoughtsx
Summary: A short sweet one off that i thought of after watching the scene when Paris is clinging to Hectors leg. Paris feels guilt and shame after his battle and Hector comforts him. Non Slash.


Guilt and Shame  
  
(A/N Well I saw Troy yesterday, it was so brilliant. And I thought of this scene after seeing Paris clinging onto his brother's leg like that. I just wanted to run up to the screen and hug him. The cinema was quite full though, so I managed to refrain from doing so. Non slash, I think it's quite sweet, but I could be wrong. Enjoy, reviews are much appreciated. One off)  
  
Paris rested his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed and trying to ignore the sounds of the battle that he could hear, even inside his room. A battle that was his entire fault, the whole war was because of him, all the deaths and heartache. And today, he had tried to resolve the war, without getting anyone hurt, but at the first sign of danger he had done what he always did.  
  
He had run straight to his brother Hector. He had always done that, ever since he had been a child, Hector had always been the one he had gone to for help.  
  
He resisted the urge to sob, refused to let the tears fall. He had already ashamed himself and his family enough today. All of Troy and all of the Greeks had seen it. They had seen him crawl through the sand and cling to his brother for dear life. They had seen him retreat back into the city where he was safe. Safe from the war that was his fault.  
  
He didn't blame Helen for it, that she should come with him had been his idea in the first place. She had wanted to go with him yes, and it hadn't taken much persuading, but it was not her fault.  
  
According to Hector she had wanted to go back last night, go back to the Greeks even though it would have meant that she would have died, but his brother had stopped her. Again it fell back to his brother to help him. As always he could not stand up for himself.  
  
And today, the only brave thing he had done was to run back and grab the fallen sword, but even that meant risking his brother's life, Hector had waited for him, instead of retreating to safety.  
  
Nobody had come to see Paris; they were probably all too ashamed of him. Helen, his father, his brother, and all of Troy. If Troy was still even safe, as far as he knew they could all be dead by now, because of him, him and his cowardice and stupidity.  
  
He had not only condemned himself and the woman he loved because of this, he had endangered his people, his country, his family, everyone. The priests went on about the Gods protecting them, but he knew that he had cursed them by stealing the wife of a Greek king. He had known it from the start, but still he had done it, still he had risked everything knowing that nothing good would come out of it.  
  
Hector was right; he had betrayed his people and his king the moment he had taken Helen aboard the boat to Troy. But he loved her, he couldn't have left her behind, she had told him herself that until he had come along she had been nothing. There was no way he could have left her like that.  
  
All of a sudden the sounds of battle stopped, everything went quiet. Paris looked up, he held his breath, not daring to breathe, but then a cheer arose and he sighed in relief. He recognised those voices; Troy was safe, at least for now. He knew that things could not last, but for now at least his city was safe. He didn't know if his brother had made it though, but even amidst his worry he could not bring himself to go out there, he could not face the accusing faces, and the taunting of his actions.  
  
He was a prince of Troy, but he acted like a child, a peasant. He knew he was selfish, too scared of being mocked to even go and see if his own family was alright. To honour those that had died for him. He could not bring himself to face all their accusing glares.  
  
A sudden knock at the door brought him out of his angst filled thoughts. He looked up as the door slowly opened. As he saw who it was he sighed in relief. He was stained with blood, both his own and his enemies, but he was very much alive.  
  
"Hector, thank Apollo, I thought... I didn't know if... I'm sorry" he finished, dropping his head back to his hands, his shame returning with a vengeance.  
  
Hector sighed, he had been angry with his brother, he had been ready to yell at him, to tell him that he was a disgrace but now that he saw him he couldn't. It was obvious to him that Paris already knew all of that; he knew that he had shamed them all, he didn't need Hector to tell him that.  
  
Walking slowly across the room he sat on the bed next to his younger brother, waiting for Paris to speak first. He was surprised though at the young prince's actions, he didn't speak; instead he turned to the sheath next to his bed.  
  
Taking out the sword of Troy he passed it to Hector, who took it in confusion.  
  
"Here" Paris said, looking his brother in the eyes for the first time since he had entered the room "The sword of Troy, take it, I do not deserve it, you are the true prince of Troy, it is to you that the people look up to, you they have to thank for all the enemies we have defeated. Not me, I don't deserve it, I have never fought in battle, and today I shamed myself, I should not wield the sword of our city."  
  
Hector held the sword and sat there looking at it. He knew that he wanted it, everything that Paris said was true, but his father had not given it to him.  
  
"No" he said softly, turning back to his brother. "Father gave it too you, keep it. I will not lie to you, today you showed fear, you thought of yourself, not others. But I feel you will need it. A time will come when this sword will be needed, to restore hope to our people, to make sure all is not lost. And if I carry it, I do not feel that it will be where it is needed."  
  
"I'm sorry" Paris said again, taking the weapon and re-sheathing it. He looked so forlorn that Hector could not help but feel sorry for him, he had not cleaned himself up yet, blood still flowed freely from his nose and his mouth, staining his face, and the gash on his leg, Hector winced, it was deep, and painful, but his brother barely seemed to notice.  
  
Taking him gently by the shoulders Hector turned his brother to face him, he kissed him on each cheek as was the custom of his people, and then held him tightly to himself. "Brother, do not feel guilt, do not feel shame, this war is not over yet, you will redeem yourself before the end. I will send someone to you to tend to your wounds. The people don't hate you, and neither does father. We are safe for now; you can not help who you love"  
  
With that Hector stood, and left the room, smiling as he heard his brother call out after him.  
  
"Thank you, again, for always fighting my battles."  
  
"That's what brothers are for" he replied, before shutting the door after him.  
  
Limping slightly as his injuries caught up on him, he started to make his way up to the balcony. He wanted to see his wife, his son, and his father. And he was sure that Paris would appreciate a visit from Helen.  
  
The End 


End file.
